Fix You
by thetideisrising
Summary: Martha. Donna. Amy. Clara. The companions that followed her all left their marks in his heart one way or another, but no one could truly replace her. She was right when she said that he needed a hand to hold. In which the companions find out of their legacy. implied ten/rose and eleven/rose (one-shot)


"_Parting is all we know of heaven, and all we need of hell." – Emily Dickinson. _

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**Lover**

1. a person, now esp. a man, who has an extramarital or premarital sexual relationship with another person

2. (_often plural)_ either of the two people involved in a love affair.

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Rose Tyler became his lover. It wasn't even supposed to happen that way, it just _did. _The Doctor had rules, rules that were never meant to be broken. Falling in love with his companions was one of the most important. They were human, he was alien. It could never work.

But then he met Rose. He knew she was different from the start. The way that she smiled at him made him want so much more, and slowly but surely his rules began to bend. He would smile, and take her hand. Something he had not allowed himself to do in years.

He didn't realize it at first, but she was slowly making him better. When he slept, which wasn't often, the nightmares began to dwindle, until they were far and few between. He had tried to convince himself that it was time that was healing his wounds, but he of all creatures knew, that time does not in fact heal everything. Especially when it was the name of the war.

Towards the end of his ninth life, he was considering opening his horizons, and allowing himself a relationship with the pink and yellow human. Rejection was not a fear of his, like it was she. He never thought it needed saying, he could feel the love she had for him radiating off of her body. Yet, humans were very different from Time Lords, they needed constant reassurance.

When they met Jack however, his thoughts of adoration were quickly turned to ones of jealousy. The way they openly flirted disgusted him. Unbeknownst to those wretched humans, he had claimed her, signaling why no other creature has even attempted to capture her attention. He did have to hand it to them; humans had always been ignorant to his claims. His thoughts drifted back to Adam, and he was glad that the boy was stupid enough to get a computer in his brain after all.

The Game Station changed everything, and when he came back to save her, he almost couldn't resist kissing her out of joy and horror. But she had to look inside the TARDIS, and not wanting his precious Rose to die; he took it out of her.

When he regenerated into the body that was made for her, he was scared that she would reject him for the first time in his very long life. He could see the inner turmoil that she was facing and cursed the newfound gob of his as he continued to ramble about god knows what. When she asked to go home, he obliged, and the terror that grabbed his heart was indescribable He never wanted to go through this again.

After the Sycrox invasion, he was positive that she wanted to leave, but when she took his hand as it snowed ashes, he knew that he would never live if she did.

As well all know, he never did get to tell her. It haunts him to this day, and this, this is not a story about how they are reunited and proclaim their love for each other, no, this is a story of tragedy, and the story of after. This is the story of The Doctor's companions, and how they attempt, to make him forget.

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**Support**

to bear or hold up (a load, mass, structure, part, etc.); serve as a foundation for.

to sustain (a person, the mind, spirits, courage, etc.) under trial or affliction.

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The Silence unnerves Martha more than anything else. When he sobs, she has a concept of what to do in order to help him. She's a doctor, a real, proper medical doctor. It's in her job description to fix people. Still, she can't help him. She knows why, it's not just the jealousy on her part, no. He has to tell her the problem. He refuses to, and it infuriates her.

She knows the gist of the situation. He was in love, still is, and the girl (Rose, the girl's name is Rose) is gone. It's not much information, and she can't proceed to comfort him. She doesn't know if the girl willingly left, if she died, or if she was trapped. Whatever the case may be he acts like a toddler who was separated from their favorite toy. It's cruel to explain it like that, but she can't find any words to better describe the insufferable situation.

She decides that she's going to confront him tonight. She wants to finish her program first though, and she sighs as she tries to figure out how she's going to do this. The Time Lord can be pretty damn evasive when he wants to be.

When her program finally finishes, she turns off the telly, expecting to hear muffled sobs. She hears nothing. Internally shuddering, she picks up her pace towards his room. She hates the silence. It means that he's dwelling. She knows better than most people that dwelling is not the way to go. _Ever. _

When she reaches the door to his room, she considers walking right in, but that would invade his privacy. Her best mate is a psychologist, and he says that his patients don't normally talk to him if they believe that he has invaded their privacy, but then they don't normally talk to him that much anyway.

Raising her hand, she lightly knocks on the door, biting her lip in anticipation. She stands there for a couple of seconds, and they are the longest seconds in her life.

"Who is it?" a voice croaks, and she almost snorts, who else would it be?

"Doctor, it's Martha," she calls through the barrier. "Can I come in?"

He's quiet for a while, and she contemplates leaving when he responds.

"Yes, you can."

Shocked, she doesn't test her luck, and immediately opens the door.

The scene before her frightens her, the way that his sheets are tangled around him, pillows thrown across the room. It's almost impossible to not see the pictures. They're scattered everywhere, across his desk, over his bed, on the floor. He clutches a handful to his chest, and the look on his face is haunting. He's remembering, she realizes, and makes her way to sit next to him on the ruptured bed.

She sits down hesitantly, and even though it's her instinct to touch him in some way, she keeps her hands to herself. The moment is intimate enough, and she doesn't want to push it.

Looking at the broken man, she opens her mouth to say something, anything, but he beats her to it.

"She was nineteen when I met her," he began, and she was shocked that he had initiated the conversation. "I took her hand, and told her to run…"

The rest of the night is filled with sobs as he spills the entire story to the girl who followed the girl who meant everything.

Later that night, they fall asleep next to each other, and she holds his hand. He doesn't have any nightmares, for the first time since he lost her. When the pair woke up, Martha Jones lets go of the Time Lord, and silently prays to whatever watches over him that he'll find her.

When the incident with Harold Saxon, the drums, and the year that never was happens, she doesn't want to leave him, someone needs to hold his hand to keep him from reminiscing, but her family needs her more.

He mentioned to her something about a ginger in a wedding dress, and it is with total confidence that he will find her that she leaves.

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**Friend**

a person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard.

a person who is on good terms with another.

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Donna Noble is not a stupid woman. She knows that he was avoiding her in that closet. She wasn't trying to be polite either. She wanted to know. She had seen how he looked the day that everything changed for her. He had been heartbroken, and for one day he had worn his heart upon his sleeve. She saw everything in his eyes. Pain. Love. _Guilt. _

When they were in that closet, she saw the face he was putting up, one that was trying to avoid total heartbreak. She knew that expression. She saw it many times when she looked in the mirror.

Contrary to popular belief, Donna Noble was not necessarily a very energetic person. Her entire persona had been conjured up to help her entire self-esteem. Her mother and father could be rather cruel when they wanted to be. She had also been invested in a relationship with a man who then later proceeded to stab her in the back. She knew how to fake a smile.

She decided that she would let the topic drop for now, but she'd bring it up when they were on the TARDIS, if he let her back. Though if she was sure about one thing, it was that he wasn't going to refuse another companion. He needed another person around.

When the nursery left, carrying the baby fat away with it, she sprinted to the car, flinging all of her belongings out of the trunk, and passing them over to the bewildered Time Lord. She ran off, muttering something about keys and a bin, and turned the corner.

That's when she saw the blond girl. She radiated importance, but Donna couldn't put a finger on her. She dismissed the thought thinking that maybe she was a figure of political power, but couldn't shake the feeling that she was someone much more important than that.

She told the girl about the bin, and the girl smiled, her tongue slipping in between her teeth. Her face burned into Donna's memory. She would ask The Doctor about the woman later. Maybe she was some famous ambassador or something.

She remembers making the worst mistake in her life, when she ran off, she kicks herself for not even asking the girl's name. Had she of done so… well things might be different.

When she got inside, she proceeded to unpack her many belongings, and after decorating the room provided for her in the style that she liked, she joined The Doctor in the console room. Except he wasn't in the console room.

Eyebrows furrowed, she walked down the hallway looking for the missing Time Lord. She came upon what she assumed was the library, and popped her head inside. He was reading a book. Figures.

"Doctor!" she called.

His head shot up in alarm. "Donna! Is something the matter?"

She laughed. "No, though I do have a question."

Looking intrigued, he patted the vacant spot on the sofa next to him. She complied, making her way through the massive library. Sitting down she opened her mouth to speak.

"When I went to put the keys in a bin…" she started. The Time Lord motioned for her to continue. "I saw this woman, I don't know who she was, she could've been anyone, but she seemed… special."

She ran a finger through her hair. "I felt like I _knew_ her. I didn't ask for her name, but I should of."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "She might have been a friend Donna, maybe someone from your past. Primary school maybe?"

She nodded, she still didn't believe him, but she dropped the subject. For now.

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When she saw the girl in the parallel world, she nearly sobbed in relief at the familiar face. Wearing the same clothes as she was the first time she saw her, the girl reminded her so much of The Doctor.

When she returned from the world that she had created, she told the Time Lord everything.

"The woman… she was the same woman from the bin."

It wasn't until later that she realized that she had made a mistake. If only she had asked for the girl's name.

Maybe they would have had their forever.

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**Family **

a social unit consisting of one or more adults together with people they care for.

any group of persons closely related by blood.

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_"__If you could have one last day with your beloved? Which day would you choose?"_

He hadn't registered where he was going until he reached the door. His feet were too busy moving to let his brain figure it out. This was a first. His brain was always a multiple step ahead.

When he reached the door, his hand raised automatically. He had to remind himself that no one was going to answer if he knocked, and with a small sob, he lowered his hand, and grasped the handle. He inhaled, pushing open the door.

The room was still the same. Of course it was. He refused to touch it, her bright pink comforter thrown half way across the bed. There was a pile of her clothes sitting on her desk chair, left there with a promise that _she would put them away later. _Later never came, obviously.

The purple walls were covered in photos. Pictures of them. Pictures of just her. The occasional pictures of her and Mickey, her and her mum. Her smiling face struck him to the core, and he grabbed the pink bin, and proceeded to wretch in it.

The next thing he remembers is the darkness.

When he wakes up, he finds the Ponds sitting beside him. Amy's face is pale, and Rory's pressing a cold cloth to his forehead, muttering words that sound like, "_superior Time Lord biology be damned." _

"Wha…" he begins, but Amy cuts him off.

"Shush Raggedy Man, you had me scared for a moment," she says, and he looks at her eyes for the first time. Terror was written all over her lovely brown orbs, and he realized the extent of his condition. Looking himself over, he decided that scared was an understatement.

"What, what happened?" he asked, and her eyes widened.

"Amy was looking for you," Rory began, "and she heard a sound that sounded like someone vomiting, she ran in here and found you curled up on the bed, your head in the bin, sobbing."

"How long was I out," he asked.

Rory checked his watch. "I dunno, maybe five hours? I wasn't really paying attention."

Amy's eyes moved around the room, her eyes focusing on several objects at once. "Doctor…" she looked at him. "This is a woman's room…" Her expression changed to genuinely concerned when she saw him begin to sweat. "Doctor, who was she?"

He tried to contain the emotions, but after eleven hundred years, he couldn't hold in the sobs. He began to shake, and he let out a low, and horrible sob. Amy, wrapped her arms around him, and Rory in turn wrapped his arms around the pair. Amy rubbed his back, and for two hours, the husband and wife whispered nothings into his ear, comforting the Time Lord in his darkest hour.

The pair continued to hold him, even after he fell asleep, convincing themselves that if they held on, maybe, just maybe, he would be okay. Slowly, intimately, they fell asleep too, and for the second time since he lost her, The Doctor had no nightmares.

The three slept soundly throughout the night, and when Amy woke, she was surprised that the Time Lord had not moved from the very domestic position that he was in. Although, that may have had to do with the fact that he was still asleep.

Amy couldn't help the small smile that appeared on her lips when the Time Lord in question shifted, burying his face in her hair. She glanced over at Rory, who shrugged.

"Mum always said that you need a cuppa after a good cry," she said smugly, her lips contorting into a smirk. "Mr. Pond, would you do the honor?"

He knew better than to argue, and he untangled his limbs from the bundle of people, standing up and making his way out of the room.

The setting was so serene Amy almost fell asleep again. _Almost. _The Doctor shifted again, his tiny frame moving so that he was on his back. Her eyes widened. She may not be a doctor, but it didn't take Rory to realize that he was much smaller than he should be, especially for a man his age. She started to wonder how long these episodes had been going on for, and why he had felt the need to ignore the couple.

She was damn near panicking again when his eyes opened, and if the irritated red skin around his irises was anything to go by, it was safe to assume that he didn't even begin to get enough sleep.

"Doctor…" she began, and he rubbed his eyes in a hopeful action to suppress the vulnerability that he was showing.

He had two options now, one being he ignore that the entirety of the situation happened and to continue on with his life. He doubted Amy would let him run away with this one, leaving embracing his past and for the first time in his very long life slow to a halt.

Luckily, her equally fiery husband saved him from answering the fiery ginger. Looking as if he had seen a ghost, he jumped away from Amy, settling on the edge of the bed. He almost heaved when he remembered whose bed he was sitting on and whose room the three of them were currently residing in.

Rory set a tray on the nightstand, and passed him a steaming mug. "I made you a cuppa."

"Ta." He cautiously sipped the liquid, and after a long silence and finishing his mug, he set the empty object on the nightstand and sighed.

"Her name was Rose," he stated.

Amy looked genuinely interested, but decided not to peruse the conversation any further than he was willing. She reached an arm out to him when he shuddered, and holding the hand of the first face that face saw, he told them of the first face and last face those faces saw.

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"I can't see you again!" his voice cried, and she felt her heart shatter for him even if she was betraying him in the worst way possible, the way that his beloved had. When the angel touched her, she was enveloped in darkness, and for the first time in her life, she wasn't scared. Rose Tyler had done it, maybe she could to. With a wicked grin, she grasped her husband's hand and filed the thought into her brain.

Challenge accepted.

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**Heaven**

the abode of God, the angels, and the spirits of the righteous after death; the place or state of existence of the blessed after the mortal life.

(in any various mythologies) a place, such as Elysium or Valhalla, to which those who have died in the gods' favor are brought to dwell in happiness.

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**Haven**

a place of safety or sanctuary; shelter.

a refuge or asylum.

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By the end of his long life, The Doctor had seen far too much to believe in an afterlife, in any type of final resting place. On his deathbed, he kind of wished that he did have some reassurance of a life after death.

Honestly, he wasn't entirely sure himself how it happened. He knows that Clara was there; they were fighting Daleks he thinks, and reminiscing on his long life he's kind of sad that they're the reason that he dies.

Clara tells him that one shot him, and he's laughing at the irony of the situation. He lost her to a Dalek too, all those years ago. He decides to amend his earlier statement, it's fitting that this is the way that he goes, the way that took her from him.

Clara stares at him as for the first time in a really long time a smile appears on his lips. Not a fake smile like all the ones that have followed at the loss of her, but a genuine smile. The muscles near his mouth hurt from the strain and as quickly as the smile appears it leaves.

It doesn't bother him as much as it probably should have.

"Clara," he begins, and he sees the tears run down her cheek because she knows that he's dying and this time there really is nothing that she can do to prevent it from happening.

"Clara."

"Doctor."

"Quite right too," he grins at his word choice. "And I suppose, if I have one last chance to sat it, tell her Clara, tell her…"

He's choking up blood now, and she cradles him in her arms willing for the pain to go away.

"Rose Tyler..." he begins. "I…"

The grim reaper cuts his sentence short and as Clara cries she can't help the smile that appears on her lips. He found her all right, she decrees, and as she burns his body she can't help but think of his pink and yellow human and the life the two are leading throughout the stars.

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_fin. _

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**I do not own Doctor Who or any of the characters used in this piece. Nor do I own Emily Dickinson and her creatively genius mind. **


End file.
